


Catch Me When I Fall

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Sam, leaping home is only the beginning of the struggles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Me When I Fall

 

  
  _Here I am a million miles from home_  
 _The Indiana wind and rain cut through me_  
 _I'm lost and alone, chilled to the bone...*_

 

The phone rang. Once, twice, three times...

There was no shelter from the driving rain. Sam huddled closer to the cold metal of the kiosk, wondering why they'd ever decided to do away with phone booths. That, he reflected, was probably why there weren't any heroes left in the world. They didn't have any place to change.

Finally, the phone stopped ringing. Sam held his breath.

"Hello?" A sleepy-sounding inquiry.

Sam gulped, fighting tears at the sound of the voice. The last thing he wanted to do was blow things already.

"Hello?" Louder this time.

"Al...?" It was almost a whisper, not quite a plea.

"Sam? Is everything all right?" Al's voice was instantly alert.

"I...I wanna come home."

There was a pause. "What about your family?"

"They're strangers. They don't really know me, you're the only one who knows me now."

"Ah, Sam..."

"Please?" he asked, tentatively.

"Don't." The voice turned sharp.

Sam fall silent, teardrops and raindrops indistinguishable in the darkness.

"Of course you can come home," Al said, gently.

A smile broke through the tears. Now, everything would be okay. "Thanks."

"Where are you? Are you at the farm?"

"No, I...." Sam paused to wipe his runny nose on his sleeve. "I didn't want to call from the house. I'm at the pay phone in town."

"Did you borrow the car?"

"No, I...wanted to walk."

"It's late, and it must be cold. You'd better get back to the house."

"Don't hang up!" he cried in almost panic.

"I'm still here, Sam."

"Can't you just...talk to me for awhile?"

Al sighed. "I don't want you to catch cold."

"I miss you," he breathed in a little voice.

"I miss you, too."

"Really?" Now he was sounding like an eager child. But he couldn't stop any of it.

When Al spoke again, there was a smile in his voice. "Really. But you should get back to the house. Do they even know you're gone?"

"I--don't know."

"You know, the sooner we hang up, the sooner I can call the airline and book a flight out there."

"You're coming to get me?" Sam tried to contain his happiness, knew he failed.

"Maybe we'll rent a car and drive back, take a little vacation. What do you think?"

"It sounds great, Al."

"Okay, let me get on it then. Listen, why don't you call the house, ask Tom to come and give you a lift home?"

"I'm okay."

"Sam--will you do that for me?"

"Okay."

"Good. I'll see you soon."

"Promise?"

"...I promise, Sammy. Bye."

"Al--I love you."

"I love you too--you know that, don't you?"

Sam paused. "Yeah," he breathed in a barely audible voice. "Goodnight, Al."

 

* * *

 

It was early evening of the next day when the taxi let Al off in front of the Beckett farm. He paid the driver and slung his bag over one shoulder, starting up the sidewalk.  Time almost seemed to stand still here. The place looked nearly the same as it did when he'd been there as a hologram, in 1969. There were only subtle differences from the outside. But he knew a dozen layers of paint and a lot of changes, lay on the inside.

Al rang the doorbell, wondering what awaited him on the other side. With Sam these days, he never knew. Things were so...complicated, now that Sam was home again.

A few moments later, Thelma Beckett opened the door. She smiled when she saw Al, beckoning him in. "Admiral Calavicci, what a pleasant surprise!"

"Surprise? Sam didn't tell you I was coming?"

"Well, he's in bed with a bad cold, the poor dear. It must have slipped his mind."

"I would have called--"

"Nonsense. Don't you worry about it."

"Hey--Admiral, how are you?"

Al glanced up at the sound of the voice, as Tom came down the stairs and extended his hand. "Can't complain--much. How about you, Tom?"

"Getting by. I just took Sam another crossword puzzle. We have this contest going, I try to find a crossword that'll stump him. I think I got him, this time," Tom added with a grin. He was older, looking more like his father these days. But he still had the boyish grin that ran in the family and always managed to erase years.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like," Thelma told Al. "As long as you don't mind sharing with Sam... We don't have much extra room," she explained apologetically, "not until Liz goes to college in the fall. Although you'd never know she still lives here by the amount of time she spends in this house."

Elizabeth, the youngest of Tom's two children, a late pregnancy with complications that gave him a daughter, but took away his wife.

"That's fine," Al assured Thelma. "When you work closely with someone every day, you get used to sharing germs. Some extra vitamin C will take care of it."

"Well, make yourself at home. I was just going to get some soup, to take up for Sam's supper."  Thelma disappeared into the kitchen.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Tom's hand on Al's arm stopped his ascent upstairs.

"Sure," Al answered neutrally. He dropped his bag by the door, and followed Tom into the study.

"What's wrong with Sam?" Tom asked when the door was closed behind them.

"What do you mean?"

"He's...well, different. He's been real quiet, almost subdued. And he's got this--childlike, I guess you'd say--way about him. We've noticed the difference, but I didn't know if I should mention anything to him."

Al sighed. "He'll be okay, don't worry. It's just...he's going through a tough time right now."

"This has something to do with the Project, doesn't it?"  As a former Seal, Tom knew enough not to ask questions about top secret Navy projects--and to understand his brother's 'secret mission'.

Al nodded.   "All I can tell you is, he's adjusting to being in the real world again. You remember what that's like. He's been mostly trapped inside a lab for five years. He'll snap out of it."  Well, it was practically the truth--sort of. What he didn't tell Tom was that Sam was still on pills, for the mood swings he'd experienced since leaping home. At first, Sam had been the opposite of what he was now--angry, aggressive. Verbena Beeks had theorized that from years of being all those different people, Sam's emotions were raw, close to the surface. He had to get used to being _Sam_ again, without having to act a role. And he was insecure about being home, as if he thought it was just a dream he'd wake up from. It left him vulnerable--and very dependent.

"He'll be okay," Al repeated. "Just give him time."

Thelma was coming out of the kitchen as the two men left the study. She had a steaming bowl of soup and some oyster crackers on a tray.

Grabbing his bag, Al followed Mrs. Beckett up the stairs. He opened the bedroom door for her, putting down his bag. "I'll get it," he offered in a hushed tone, taking the tray from her. A glance at the bed told him Sam was asleep.

"Thanks. If you need anything, let me know," she told Al. "And if you're hungry, we've already eaten, but I can heat something up for you."

"I'm okay."

"I'll be doing a little straightening in the bathroom, but it'll be free in a few minutes, if you want to freshen up."

"I've been told I'm _fresh_ enough," Al said, giving her his most charming grin. "Really, I'm fine."

Leaving the door open on a crack, Al turned toward the figure in the bed. Sam was dozing, lightly, he could tell. He set the try on the foot of the bed, and sat down next to Sam.  "Hi, kid," he said quietly, slipping a supporting arm around his friend's shoulders.

Sam opened his eyes groggily. "You came to get me?" he asked in obvious pleasure. His eyes were fever-bright, and his voice had a slight nasal quality, but it didn't seem any more serious than a garden-variety cold. Al relaxed...but only some.

"I told you I was coming, on the phone. Don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember," Sam said, averting his gaze. "Is that soup for me?" he asked.

"Ah, Sam..." Al sighed. Seemed he was saying that a lot lately. He brushed back a lock of Sam's hair affectionately, dropping a light kiss on the warm forehead. Then he happened to glance up, in time to see Thelma, walking away from the door.

Al sighed again.

"I'm glad you're here," Sam told him.

"Me, too. Have you been taking your pills?"

"Yes, Daddy," Sam said, not kindly.

"That soup sure smells good," Al commented, for want of anything better to say.

"It's homemade chicken noodle." Sam looked imploringly from the soup to Al, until he finally got the message.

"Sorry," Al chuckled, retrieving the tray for Sam. He watched the kid start eating, reaching over to steal a cracker.

"Want some?" Sam offered, holding out a spoonful to him.

Feeling a little strange, Al accepted the soup. They shared the whole meal, talking quietly about mundane things like how lousy the airline food had been, and what route they'd take on the drive back.

 

* * *

 

When Al brought the tray back down to the kitchen, Mrs. Beckett was at the sink, doing the dinner dishes. He hesitated in the doorway, wondering what, if anything, she might say to him, then brought the soup bowl over to the sink.

"Let me give you a hand with that," he offered.

"Thank you," Thelma said, handing him a towel without another word.

"Tom never bought you a dishwasher?" Al inquired as they worked side by side.

"Never wanted one. Mary had one, when it broke Tom offered to buy me another, but I told him not to bother. Those things never did a decent job, far as I'm concerned." It was obvious she'd taken over again as woman of the house, after Tom's wife had died--it was also obvious she wasn't particularly interested in the conversation, only answering because he'd asked.

Al accepted the silence between them, waiting. Eventually, she spoke again. "How is Sam?"

"He went back to sleep."

"That's not what I mean."

Al paused. "I know. He'll be okay. He's just...been under a lot of work-related stress. That's why I suggested he take this vacation."

"We don't see him for five years, then he suddenly shows up with 'work-related' stress, and that's as close to the truth as we'll ever hear. Isn't that the way it works?"

Al put a hand on her shoulder. "He _will_  be okay. I promise."

The next silence was a brief one. "Sam talks about you all the time," she informed him.

Al turned his attention back to his task, stacking the disk he'd just dried on top of the others carefully. "We've been close friends for a lot of years."

"He used to idolize his brother, too," Thelma said. "He would have followed Tom anywhere. Tom could do no wrong, in Sam's eyes."

Al winced inside. It sounded like a statement of fact, but was it a subtle hint?  "He still loves Tom very much."

This time, her pause spoke volumes. "Sam's..." she sighed. "He's always been my baby, even though Katie was the youngest and he was smarter than his years. He's always been so sensitive, vulnerable."

"I know," Al whispered, then cleared his throat.

"I worry," she said, almost apologetically.

Al dried his hands on the dishtowel, put it down, then took both of Thelma's shoulders and turned her to meet his eyes. "I'd never let anything hurt Sam," he vowed. " _Anything_."

After another one of her silences, she smiled slightly. "I believe you wouldn't."

By mutual unspoken agreement, they went back to finishing the dishes, and the subject was never brought up again.

 

* * *

 

Al tiptoed quietly into the bedroom later that night, turning the lock and flipping off the light switch. He felt his way to the bed, glad he'd thought to leave his bedclothes handy earlier, rather than risk waking Sam by rummaging around now. He changed into his pajamas and slipped into bed.

Sam automatically snuggled closer, discarding his pillow in favor of Al's chest; he was sound asleep, his deep breathing seeming loud but very comforting in the dark room.  _S.O.P_.  Al thought. Almost the first thing Sam had done after he leaped back was make himself at home at Al's apartment, quite content not to ever face the world again. He'd been frightened, needed understanding and comfort--things Al was an expert at providing.  Verbena had warned Al of the possible dangers in Sam's clinging dependence. And Sam wasn't making it easy on him--no news there, though.  Al stroked Sam's hair, almost absently.

It was tough being Sam Beckett. He could be spoiled and stubborn, but there was a wealth of goodness in him. And he always meant well, even if sometimes he couldn't help himself. He was a victim of his own mind. At the age when most kids thought their parents were the smartest people on earth, Sam had already realized he was more intelligent than anyone around him.  He'd had a loving, supportive family; still, he was always alone inside his mind.

With no one to look up to in a conventional sense, Sam had to adapt new criteria to admire. Being deprived of it when he was so young left a deep need in him. A need to, well, to _need_ someone. Someone he could perceive--whether true or not--as superior to him. Even a scary tendency toward...submission.

Al tightened his arms around his sleeping friend protectively. He could understand Mrs. Beckett worrying about her youngest son. When Sam let that barrier down, he was especially vulnerable. Like when he'd met Donna. Pretty, sexy, and quantum physics was her field too--a deadly combination for a man like Sam. Sam figured he'd finally found someone who would really understand him. How could he help but fall in love with her? When she deserted him at the altar... Al didn't think Sam would ever recover. Now especially, he wondered if Sam had.

Maybe it was all water under the bridge. Only the present mattered, if Al hadn't known it already, five years of quantum leaping through time had taught that bitter lesson. He was achingly aware of the fragility of the man whose care was in his hands...and terrified he'd screw it up...

As he had so many other things in his life.

 

* * *

Al was dreaming. Like most dreams, this one had a sense of unreality to it that was vaguely comforting; he knew it wasn't real. Sam was in a leap. He was in danger, and Al had to get into the Imaging Chamber to warn him. He was running and running, but didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Then, suddenly, there was a doorknob in his hands. He turned it, jiggled urgently, but it wouldn't budge. Puzzled, Al stopped to consider the problem. A doorknob on the I.C. door? That was silly. He shrugged...

And woke up, blinking in the early morning light. He looked around, sure in the moment of confusion, that something had woken him.  The room was silent. Al yawned, dismissing it and the dream, and glanced at Sam.

Sam was shifting restlessly, on the verge of consciousness, as if his sleep had been disturbed too. Moments later, he opened his eyes. Cloudy with uncertainty, they finally focused on Al. "I dreamed that I woke up," he murmured.

"Huh?" Al asked through another yawn.

"I woke up, and realized you weren't really here, I only dreamed that you were here." Those oh-so-vulnerable eyes stared up at him; irresistible on a warm, comfortable morning.

"You know what I think we ought to do?" Al asked, smiling at Sam with his eyes. 

Sam shook his head.

"I think we ought to... _cuddle_ ," Al whispered dramatically in his ear, pulling him close for a playful bear-hug.

Sam giggled as he managed to tickle some ribs in the process, then settled into the embrace, his head on Al's shoulder.

"So what'd you do while you were here?" Al asked conversationally.

"Well, I played basketball with Tom. I beat him. I never used to be able to beat him."

Al rubbed his back soothingly. "He's getting older," he answered quietly.

"I didn't want to play after that, I was afraid I'd keep beating him."

_And you're afraid you'd find out he's not the hero you idolized. That he's just a man. Human... Just like I am._

"And we had a big dinner with my nieces and nephews, and I spent time with Ma, and talked to Katie on the phone, and helped Tom with the chores."

"Did you look up any of your old friends?" Al asked.

"No, I...couldn't do that."

"Didn't you even go to a movie or anything?" Sam shook his head. "Doesn't sound like much of a vacation, to me."

Sam looked up at him. "I'd really like to stay a couple of more days. It'll be much better now that you're here," he said in a wheedling, little-boy tone.

"First you gotta get rid of your cold."

"I'm feeling a lot better," Sam assured.

"Uh huh," Al commented skeptically. But Sam's forehead didn't feel hot to his touch, and his eyes and voice were a lot clearer this morning.

"In fact, I'm starving." Sam peered at the bedside clock. "Mom usually brings breakfast before this--poached egg, dry toast and weak tea," he grinned. "I guess she didn't want to disturb you, in case you were sleeping."

Al glanced at the doorknob. "Yeah."

"I hate it when she waits on me like that, but she insists."

"Why doesn't Tom hire a housekeeper to help with things?"

Sam snorted in amusement. "You don't know my mother. He wanted to, she wouldn't hear of it. She's not a woman who has outside interests important to her. Her family and home is her life. Taking care of us is what makes her happy."

"She's a special lady," Al said, gently brushing back the lock of hair from Sam's face. "It's easy to see how she got such a special son."

Sam turned his face into Al's shoulder, blushing slightly. "I don't know what she's gonna do when she's too old to get around like she does," he continued softly.

The innocent comment made Al uncomfortable. "Don't we all," he said, then caught himself before Sam could pick up on his real meaning. "Well, since you seem to be doing so much better this morning, why don't you come down and have breakfast with us?" 

"She'll probably still feed me poached eggs and dry toast," Sam complained, but he was already climbing out of bed eagerly.

Al got up too, rooting in his suitcase for clothes. "Tired of being sick already?"

"You know me." Sam paused and regarded Al with a thoughtful expression. "You'd better have a pair of jeans in there."

"Why?" Al wanted to know.

"Because you're on a farm, that's why. People don't wear fancy neon suits on a farm--even if they're only visiting. You wouldn't want to step in cow pies with your good shoes, would you?"

Al held up a pair of jeans for Sam to see, ending his tirade.

 

* * *

The family was pleased to see Sam feeling better, although his mother did insist he stick to bland foods for another day. He agreed reluctantly, then kept swiping things off Al's plate. Mrs. Beckett watched, but said nothing.

After breakfast, Al went to take a shower, leaving Sam alone with his family.

Tom shook his head in amusement. "Sam must be feeling better, he's back to his old obnoxious self," he directed towards his mother. "Don't you think?"

"I guess," Thelma said, her attention on cleaning up the kitchen.

"Speaking of feeling better," Sam told his brother. "Al and I will give you a hand today."

"Sure you're up to it?"

Sam nodded. "I know you're short handed with Bill sick with the flu. Besides, I'm looking forward to it."

"The question is, is _Al_?" Tom asked.

Sam smiled mischievously.

 

* * *

"You gotta be sneaky about it," Sam was explaining to a dubious Al, as he grabbed another egg from under a hen. "Don't let them know you're stealing their unborn babies."

Al scowled at him. "Cute, Sam. They aren't babies, nor will they ever be, because they haven't been fertilized."

With a wicked gleam in his eyes that he tried to hide, Sam reached down and picked a bag up off the ground, holding it for Al to see. Lawn fertilizer. "I just hope Tom remembered which ones to--"

"Sam!" Al commanded, as his friend broke into laughter. "I hope you're doing this act for your own benefit, 'cause I'm not as stupid as I look. 'Specially when it comes to the birds and the bees."

"You're no fun," Sam complained, then cocked his head, listening.

"Now what?" Al asked in a tone which said he was expecting more teasing.

Sam put a finger to his lips and motioned for Al to follow. He went over to another nest, this one set up away from the others.

"Watch," Sam said simply.

They stood in hushed expectation, waiting. Soon, a small crack appeared in the egg. They watched as the new baby chick slowly broke its way out, Sam watching Al as well.

When the chick was free, peeping at them, Sam scooped it up and deposited it in Al's hand. Al grinned, petting the little creature with one finger.

Sam had seen this miracle many times; his pleasure came from watching Al's face, experiencing it anew in his friend's awed eyes. He never had a chance to see some of life's most precious moments, Sam thought, with quiet affection. Al had had a hard life which left no room for simple things like this, things that made you feel a part of nature. The things that really mattered in life...

And Sam was going to do his best to open Al's eyes about what really mattered in life.

 

* * *

It was mid-afternoon. They were in the barn, where Sam had given Al pointers on the fine art of pitching hay. Now the instructor was sitting on a bale, looking content to watch him work.

Al paused to glare at him. "Well, are you just going to sit there?"

"Sure," Sam replied. "I'm the teacher, you're the pupil. Besides, I'm just over being sick, can't be getting all sweaty, can I?"

"Uh hum," Al commented. Then, without warning, he tossed the next pitchfork of hay on top of Sam.

"Hey!" he sputtered, jumping up in mock outrage. They grappled together, laughing and tossing hay at each other, until Al managed to push Sam down into the pile.

"Okay, you win!" Sam said, picking hay out of his mouth. "I'll help you." He extended a hand outward, silently asking for a hand up.

Al's mistake was trusting Sam. The next thing he knew, he was face down in the pile next to him, and Sam was laughing smugly.

"Thanks..." Al murmured, flipping over onto his back. It was pretty comfortable, actually. And peaceful. He stared up at the sun filtering in from the cracks in the roof, and they shared a few minutes of companionable quiet. "You ever make love in the hayloft--bring a girl up there?" he asked eventually.

Sam got up abruptly, brushing off hay. "No, I didn't."

Tom, who'd walked in to hear the last part, slung his arm around Sam's shoulder. "My shy little brother?" Sam moved away, and Tom gave Al a hand up, looking at the loft fondly. "Now, me, I remember some nights... I used to sneak out here with Marcy Parsons."

"Parsons? That wouldn't be Lisa's sister?" Al asked with a grin.

Tom nodded. "If the folks ever knew...Mom would have had a cow and dad would have grounded me for a year."

"It's always been a fantasy of mine," Al said, glancing up. "'Course they didn't have much hay in little Italy."

"Then, my wife and I..." Tom fell silent abruptly. Al put a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. "She used to swear Liz was conceived up there."

Al nodded solemnly. "Memories are important...sounds like you have a lot of good ones."

Tom nodded, then shook himself out of his introspection, glancing around the barn. "Where'd Sam go?"

 

* * *

Al found Sam sitting on the fence, balanced precariously on the rickety wood and looking out over the corn field. He moved up close behind him--just in case the fence decided to give way.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked Sam quietly.

"Just...watching the corn grow. Like I used to do when I was a kid."

 _And think about the mysteries of life_ , Al mentally added. A mind like Sam's was never completely still.

"Dad let us make a scarecrow one year," Sam related. "Tom got these two old pans, and strapped them to its chest," he gestured with his hands, "For, you know...and we took silver Christmas tinsel and attached it to her head for hair. It was the most god-awful thing you ever saw," he recalled with a laugh. "But the crows wouldn't go near it. We called her the silver lady. Tom used to make up stories about how she was watching over the corn and us, too, making sure nothing happened to us. We lost her during the flood, the year Katie was born."

"You okay?" Al asked gently, when Sam didn't say anything else.

"Yeah." He craned his neck around to look at Al. "Want to go to a movie tonight?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Good." Abruptly, Sam let himself fall backward.

Al caught him, grunting in effort and surprise, just about keeping on his feet as he prevented Sam from falling. "What the hell did you do that for?" he asked.

"I knew you'd catch me."

 

* * *

They did go to the movies that night. It was a lighthearted adventure, actually quite good. Afterwards, they went to a place called 'The North Pole' for ice cream, and Sam told Al how he'd taken Lisa there after their first date. He pointed out other town landmarks, relating stories from his childhood. It turned out to be a comfortable, pleasant, uncomplicated night out.

That's what bothered Al the most.  Wasn't that called being lulled into a false sense of security?

 

* * *

When Al woke up in the middle of the night to find Sam gone from the bed, he was mildly surprised to find he wasn't all that surprised. He pulled on some clothes and went looking, finding Sam out in the barn, in the hay loft.

"Sam?" he called softly, peering up into the shadows.

"C'mon up."

"Said the spider to the fly," Al grumbled under his breath, carefully finding his footing on the ladder.

"Why Al," came the disembodied voice out of the darkness, teasingly, "are you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid of falling and breaking my neck," he countered.

A hand reached over, helping him the rest of the way up. Then Sam went back to his former position, laying on a blanket with his head cushioned on a pillow of hay.

"What are you doing up here?" Al asked, dropping next to Sam.

"Tom came up here to screw, I always came up to think about things."

"What are you thinking about?" Al asked cautiously.

"My life--all of it."

"That's a lot of thinking."

"Yeah, especially for forty-seven years and several timelines," Sam quipped.

Al looked over at his friend, studying the well-known features. He kept having to remind himself Sam was that old, especially now, when he was so emotionally...shaky. Again, Beeks warning came back to him.

"I lied," Sam said abruptly.

"About what?"

"I did take a girl up here, once."

"You? Sam Beckett?" Al said with amused surprise. "Tell all."

"It was Lisa," Sam began. "It was my first time...you know, with a girl. Or rather, almost. We snuck up here after the game." He laughed self-consciously. "We were kissing, and...fondling each other, both of us seemed in agreement. I finally got the guts to go for it--she decided at the last minute--the _last_ minute, that she'd changed her mind, threw on her clothes and ran away." Sam paused to draw a deep breath. "Luckily her father's job transferred him to another state right after that, I didn't have to deal with the humiliation of seeing her every day. It still hurt, though. My first big rejection," he laughed again, this time not very convincingly.

"Maybe she wasn't ready for a big step like that?" Al suggested, very carefully. 

"Maybe she was just afraid."

"Sam--" a warning? a plea?

"I love you, Al," a soft voice whispering in the darkness.

Al closed his eyes, bracing himself against...whatever was coming next. But he couldn't answer.

"I know what we discussed when I first...told you how I felt," Sam's voice ate up all the silence between them. "You and Verbena kept telling me it was for my own protection. That I've developed a dependence on you because you were my only link to home while I was leaping. I guess that implies when I feel more secure about things, I won't be so dependent on you?"

"Right now..." Al began, faltered, cleared his throat. "I'm trying to...do the right thing by you."

"I won't get hurt, because you'll always catch me. You're not afraid for me, Al--you're afraid for _you_.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're afraid I'll change my mind when I don't 'need' you anymore. You never said that you didn't want me--you just said it wasn't a good idea under the circumstances. You--the man who never stopped trying, marriage after marriage, is afraid to try with me. Do you know what that tells me?"

 _You scare the hell out of me_ , Al thought, biting his tongue.

"It tells me...that..." Sam tried, voice choked with emotion. "That you...love me--more than...than anyone else."

"Sam..." was all Al could manage.

"Am I wrong?" Sam asked, looking into his eyes, reminding Al of a timid, frightened deer. He wanted to coax this creature closer, suddenly. Invite it to trust, and learn the wonder of its presence.

Al shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. "You're more right than you know," he admitted honestly. Sam had asked, he had told the truth. Ever since he leaped home, Al vowed he'd never lie to him again. He kept his promise.

"I'll catch you Al, I promise," Sam whispered, in the moment before his lips met Al's.

Sam's lips were soft and warm, with a hint of shyness and a dash of something that was pure male. Al felt a tingle start where their mouths met, spreading slowly through his whole body. This was, he realized with wonder, their first kiss. Suddenly, he wanted it to last forever; once over, there would never be another first kiss. He slipped his arms around Sam, drawing him nearer, loosing himself in their kiss, deepening it until a moan from Sam scared him into easing off.

_Who's the frightened deer?_

Eventually, inevitably, the kiss ended. But as they separated slightly, gazing shyly at each other, Al realized there were other firsts to share tonight.

They lay there looking at each other as if both were uncertain, afraid to make the next move. Al reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing Sam's lightly. "You really want this?" he asked. It should have been obvious, but somehow, even though he knew without a doubt what was happening between them, he was having trouble believing it.

Sam took Al's hand gently, placing it on his crotch. "Do you believe me now?" he asked.

The flesh within the soft sweat pants was warm, hard. He could feel every contour, Sam wore no underwear. Al reversed their positions so that Sam's hand rested on his crotch. The hand trembled, he wondered whether in desire, fear, or both. Then the fingers moved, pressing and rubbing him through the thin silk pajamas.

Al shivered, closing his eyes against the feelings that were swamping him. He felt like a virgin again, a scared teen-ager about to enter a world of new discovery.

Exuding an air of determined resolve, Sam sat up and pulled his sweat shirt over his head. Bowing to the inevitable at last, Al reached out, his hands caressing the well-muscled chest in front of him, as Sam slowly undid the buttons on his pajama top.

"Sam, if--" he began, trying to hold onto reason just a little longer.

Sam's fingers went to his lips. "Shh...tonight isn't for talking. Tonight is for...fulfilling fantasies."

"This isn't fantasy."

Sam shook his head. "No. This is reality."

"Yes," Al agreed, pulling him close.

Their lovemaking that night was a tender and sweet sharing. Like the first time, only much better; a gentle exploration of bodies and feelings. They caressed each other slowly, sensually charting each uncharted place as they went. It amazed Al that something which was little more than mutual masturbation could be elevated to an act of beautiful love. It tore all his doubts from him and replaced them with certainty. Took his fear and gave desire in return. Ended the loneliness of his soul and filled it with Sam's love.

The night left no secrets, no doubts between them. Only love remained.

 

* * *

Sam walked out into the backyard, looking for Al. The car was packed, and they were about to begin the leisurely drive back to New Mexico. As much as he was going to miss his family, Sam was anxiously looking forward to being alone with Al. And, to going home--where they could begin their new life together.  Sam spied him out in the field, and jogged over. He was sitting on the fence, in the same spot Sam had been in a few days before.

"Watching the corn grow?" Sam asked with a smile.

"I'm listening to the silver lady," Al told him. "Her spirit still lives on, you know."

"I know," he answered.

"I think your mother suspects about us," Al told him quietly.

"That we love each other?"

Al nodded. "She did, even before...

"Before what?" Sam asked.

"Good question."

"I know," Sam said simply. "Well, the car's packed with enough of Mom's cooking to last us to New Mexico. Ready to go?"

Instead of answering, Al let himself fall backwards off the fence.

Sam caught Al in his arms, smiling in understanding. "I love you, Al. I'll never let you fall."

 

 

_...take my word,_   
_I won't run out on you again, believe me_   
_I've seen the light, it's just one long fight,_   
_without you...*_

 

 

**.finis.**

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *Silver Lady; Tony Macaulay/Geoff Stephens. Performed by David Soul


End file.
